


Working Title: Things Lost in Flames

by 00qverlord



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Biological Warfare, Biological Weapons, Chemicals, Evil Corporations, M/M, Preventing the End of the World, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction, companies at war, corporations taking over the world, dangerous chemicals, it's not sy-fy what the fuck is sy-fy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/00qverlord/pseuds/00qverlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mik didn't really want to be here. He was accidentally given a top secret package, which both big-shot corporations Dred and ARCON were after. One after world domination, and the other after world destruction, it's all he can do to protect the package.</p><p>X has been tracking this package for a long time. He has strict instructions to not let anyone else take it. He's to keep it out of both the Police, ARCON and Dred's hands before this can all go to the deepest depths of hell. As a trained mercenary, he is often on the wrong side of the law, and may or may not have an APB out on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Title: Things Lost in Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is written on wattpad for the Just Write It LGBTQ Month challenge and will be updated as regularily as that, so 10,000 words before the end of June. Thanks, hope you enjoy my first crack at biochemicals!

**Mik didn't know why he was being handed a box.** It didn't have his name on it - it didn't have any sort of label on it- but the cardboard didn't feel flimsy. It was stiff, more like bristol board as  opposed to paper. The only thing Mr Hendricks had told Mik when he told Mik to stay after class, was to take good care of it and whatever he did, don't drop it, and don't open it. He had wondered what could be in there to warrant that kind of warning, but with that warning came the foot that squished Mik's curiosity. Mik had high suspicions it wasn't a puppy. The box was small enough to fit in his backpack, just a little bit bigger than the palm of his hand. He was grateful for small reliefs like not having to carry it around all day.   
     He tried to pay attention through the rest of his classes, but English was a bore, and he finished all his business work early and played games for half an hour, and he didn't bother going to geography. He would just intercept the phone call that his parents would get about him not being there. His backpack felt heavier on the way home, even though it didn't weigh any more.  
     When he got home, he was sweaty and tired and the music through his earbuds was almost enough to make it seem like a normal day. He looked at the list his mum left out for him: _Homework, practice guitar, take off binder._ It was his normal, everyday after school routine. He put his lunchbag on the counter, and went upstairs. He dropped his bag beside his desk. Mik took off his shirt, took off his black binder and put his shirt back on. He dropped the binder into the hamper, and sat down at his computer. He paused before turning it on, however, as his backpack seemed to call to him. He had almost forgotten about the ominous box sitting in the front pocket. He wasn't going to be someone to invade someone else's privacy, so he put the box on the desk beside him and let it sit with all the pop cans and loose papers around it. He looked at his guitar, and looked back at his computer, and looked back at the guitar again, making up his mind. He'd do it later. As much as he tried to focus on his computer after turning it on, his eyes always drifted back to the box, and Mik regretted putting it in his line of sight. He sighed and resigned himself to his fate, pausing the video he was watching. He ran his fingers over the edges of the box, curiosity bubbling up in his chest.  
     He heard the buzzing of the door unlocking and he jumped. He hadn't realized how the box's bland cardboard had drawn him in, but something was very off about that box. He hastily opened his underwear drawer and shoved the box inside, burying it under the sock pile. He stuck his earbuds in his computer, put one in his ear and hit play moments before Mik's little brother opened the door to announce his presence.   
     "Hi Mik, I'm home!" Graham pushed open the door to be greeted with Mik's glare.   
     "Hi Ham, what've I told you 'bout barging into my room?"  
     "Not to?" Graham tried to pull the most innocent face he could, but Mik wasn't buying it.   
     "Exactly. Scram, please. Videos are better than people." Mik tried to pass it off as nonchalant, but he thought he just managed to piss of Graham. And knowing him, Graham was going to tell their parents, and Mik would hear about it at dinner. He sighed and turned back to his video. He admitted to himself that he was a little jumpy about how close Graham had come to seeing the box. He didn't know why he had to hide it, exactly, but he just had this feeling that it shouldn't - _couldn't_ \- be shown to anyone else. 

Dinner wasn't anything special. His parents asked how he was, he replied with a bored "fine." Graham recounted his day at school, which Mik zoned out for. Mik's dad asked him what sort of stuff he was into these days, and Mik shrugged. He was into all sorts of stuff, things that he found himself living for more often than not: Hamilton, Doctor Who, White Collar, and many more shows. His parents either didn't care or didn't understand the connection between him and the fictional characters he called friends. He went back upstairs after he finished dinner. He sat down at his computer and tried to entertain himself with more videos. His mum nagged him to bed, but he wasn't getting much sleep. He knew it was going to be a hell of a day tomorrow, because of this, but in the back of his mind was the box. He couldn't sleep, so he imagined what could be in it. Something for a loved one? A deadly virus to release on the world? A really small phone? Some sort of super spy equipment? He watched as the stories in his head played out with each scenario, the next as enticing as the last. He ran out of scenarios, and resorted himself to a mindless night. 

     They came out of nowhere on Mik's way to school. A white van drove by, and Mik tensed. He didn't know why, he had passed plenty of windowless white vans before, but those had also made him feel on edge. It was probably all of the shows he watched, it was always the windowless white vans that came out to kidnap people. Except, when it started to slow down when the driver saw Mik (Mik didn't see the driver), it was a little disconcerting. When men in black suits and masks jumped out of the van that was _still moving,_ Mik didn't regret his decision to watch crime dramas one bit. His chest felt compressed and his limbs felt like jelly, but he forced himself to turn around and start running for his dear life. Because those guys didn't seem to want to go after anyone else. He didn't look back to see how close they were. He told himself he wouldn't stop running until he reached his home, where he could lock himself in the bathroom and call 911. Logically, his mind supplied that they could probably just break down the door, but he ignored that.  
     He felt something that could only be described as pure terror as he was knocked to the ground by one of the guys in black. The man was big, and all that was definitely muscle and not fat. He was fast, faster than Mik was, obviously, which was presumably why he was sent out before the others. Mik struggled when the man wrapped his arms around Mik, and Mik got in a good accidental right hook, which caused the man to release him and grab at his chin, but at the point they were surrounded by the others.   
     Mik couldn't see a way out. Unless he had super bouncy shoes and could somehow hulk-leap over them, he wasn't getting out. It wasn't how he expected to go. He thought he would have been old and dying, in a hospital bed with his favourite book. This was a little to television-like for him. He liked watching other people get out of these situations, he did _not_ like having to think himself out of one.   
     "Where's the box?"  
     Mik could pick out the ringleader who stepped into the circle, the gap closing behind him. He prayed to any deity that was listening that his voice wouldn't portray his fear; "What box?" He could feel the heat off the other's glare directed toward him.  
     "I'll try again. Where's the box?" The man took a menacing step toward Mik, and as much as he would like to say it didn't affect him, he took a step backward in response.   
     "I don't know, man. I don't know what box you're talking about." Mik internally sighed, as that didn't even sound convincing to his own ears. Now he knew he was in for it.  
     "Last time for a nice question. _Where is th-_ " The man stopped halfway through his sentence, and started grabbing at his throat. There didn't seem to be anything there, but when the man fell to the ground, Mik saw the man behind him holding a Kemper Wire Clay Cutter. Mik's eyebrows went up, he was surprised the man's head hadn't rolled off along with the oxygen. He slumped to the ground, and the man behind him didn't even try to catch him as the thump rang out in Mik's ears. His brain wasn't moving any faster. Time seemed to be slowing down around him and he didn't bother trying to keep up. Nobody moved. It seemed like they were as surprised as he was. Then the man looked at Mik, and Mik had to stop his body from flinching.   
     "Run."  
     Things flung into action. Time sped up again and pulled Mik out of his trance, and he took off, tearing down the sidewalk towards his house. He didn't make it very far, as one of the uniformed men tackled him to the ground again, and Mik was pretty sure he wasn't going to be very comfortable tomorrow. He flailed his arms around to get any sort of traction on the man, but the punches he landed didn't seem to affect the man at all. He didn't even try to hurt Mik, just pin him down. Mik realized they still didn't know where the box was, so they were going to have to keep him alive. He froze again when the man on top of him went slack, and then fell forward right on top of him, successfully pinning him down. The man above him who gleamed in the sunlight, held a brick in his hand, and had what looked like stains that Mik was going to try very hard not to think about. The man offered him a hand. He pushed the man off of him and took the offered hand, guiding him up. He finally got a good look at the man who had saved his life. He was wearing a worn leather jacket, with black jeans and a black fedora, and why wasn't this man's body melting into a puddle, because it was really freaking hot outside! Mik couldn't see the guy's face, which made him all the more uncomfortable. The shock of this whole situation hadn't really worn off, but his brain was beginning to catch up just a little bit.   
     "Thank yo-"  
     "No need, kid," His voice sounded deep, but also rough and scratchy like it hadn't been used in a while.   
     "Do you have any idea what's going on here?" Mik looked at all the scattered men on the sidewalk, and near the van where they had come from.   
     "They were after you. Do you have anyone who you can contact? Girlfriend? Parents?"  
     "Uh, yeah. Parents, but they aren't home yet. Why?" A horrible feeling settles in Mik's gut, he did not at all like the way this was going. In every single movie he had watched, every time someone says something like that they're next lines were almost always "we need to get moving." Which was why Mik almost laughed out loud when the man's lines were exactly. "Let's get moving."   
"Where?" Because as much as this fascinated and horrified Mik at the exact same time, they weren't getting out of the street any time soon by the looks of it at this rate.   
"We need to go home. We need to get the box."


End file.
